


The Words the Silence Carries

by you_cannot_define_me



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Spock, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Spock, Canon Compliant, Communication Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I guess this is kind of angst lol what else do I write really, I've left Jim's orientation up in the air so do with that what you will, Queerplatonic Relationships, aromantic asexual spock, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_cannot_define_me/pseuds/you_cannot_define_me
Summary: It is very late, and very dark, and Spock is alone on the bridge. Until he isn't.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	The Words the Silence Carries

The bridge was silent, the air draped over it like a heavy sheet, and it was quite dark save for the soft glow of the control panels as they flickered. All of the rest of the crew was asleep in their quarters; autopilot was engaged; a steady course was charted through relatively empty space, and there were no anomalies anywhere. No anomalies, that is, save one: although his shift had long since ended, Spock was sat at his station.

The watch change would have happened hours earlier--3.26 hours, to be precise--but the young Lieutenant was hardly upset when the First Officer told him that he was free to return to his quarters. There was an experiment running, and Spock needed to remain on the bridge to supervise it; no other help was needed. By the time Spock had finished lying directly to the young man's face, the Lieutenant was nearly asleep on his feet. Spock was soon alone again.

There had, of course, been no experiment. Anyone with a rudimentary knowledge of the star system through which they were travelling would have known that it had not only been extensively mapped, but was also exceedingly empty. Entirely unremarkable. In fact, the only reason the Enterprise was travelling through the area was because there was something more interesting on the other side; that was why the crew could afford the seldom-used luxury of autopilot. It was practically a guarantee that there would be no disturbances. Of course, protocol required the presence of at least one competent crewmember on the bridge, in the extremely unlikely event of a complication--for obvious reasons, this position was not a coveted one, which allowed Spock to effectively disguise his eagerness to take it.

The captain had initially protested. "Spock, let the young fellows do some of the grunt work this time around. You haven't taken a break in...who knows how long? Don't--don't answer that," he had added, "but please: get some rest."

Spock's reasoning, at least ostensibly, had been: "Captain, as I am a Vulcan, my physiology allows me to go without rest for extended periods of time. I assure you, I am in excellent physical condition. As these young crewmembers are clearly quite tired, I would be the most logical assignment to the bridge."

"Your favorite excuse, Mr. Spock. One day you'll see the wisdom of getting a few extra hours of shut-eye when you can!" the captain had said with a wry grin. Spock had begun to reply that biologically, Vulcans do not require as many hours of sleep as do humans, but the captain had cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Do what you want, Spock. I'm off to bed. Don't let the Enterprise run into anything while I'm gone!" And then he had walked away, stepping into the elevator and yawning as the doors shut with a hiss. 

After a moment, Spock had realized that he had followed the captain from the science station to the elevator--but Jim had not turned around. Spock had not been seen. The lights began to dim as autopilot engaged, and Spock returned to his station. He sat down.

And he had remained sitting there, listening to the silence and watching the lights, until the first change of watch had come. The slightest of smiles had crept onto Spock's face; Jim had instructed this, undoubtedly. Quietly but firmly, he had dismissed the young officer who had reported. After the third dismissal, there had been no more exhausted crewmembers that had come to the bridge.

Sitting there now, in the heavy silence, Spock was glad for the reprieve. He needed to be alone. To think.

Suddenly, the swish of the elevator doors--and the strikingly bright light from within--snapped Spock to alertness. Were he human, he would at this point have been thoroughly annoyed by the repeated intrusions--but he was not human, of course. He turned around slowly, measuredly, and went to stand and assure this hapless fourth crewmember that his experiment was still running.

The silhouette in the doorway was quite familiar, and quite unexpected. Jim.

He stepped through the doorway as the doors swept closed behind him. The light faded, and the Enterprise bridge returned to its previous darkness, although somehow the quiet was not as heavy.

Spock's keen hearing picked up the captain's slow breathing; that indicated a slowed heart rate, which meant that he had just awoken and had for some reason come to the bridge. Although, Spock noted, a glance at his unruly hair would have yielded much the same conclusion.

Neither of them said a word.

Instead, Jim silently walked over and leaned his elbows on the railing near Spock's station, facing the viewscreen and the bridge floor. Spock watched him, equally as silent, and carefully placid. Calm.

He was, admittedly, puzzled as to the reason for the captain's abrupt appearance on the bridge, but Spock reasoned that it was not his place to ask. And in any case, he did not want to speak and break the quiet. There was no truly logical reason for that, but Spock ignored that fact.

After a time that Spock had not measured, Jim took a breath in, and Spock knew that he would speak. He remained seated at his station, upright as always, but perhaps leaned forward a little in the heartbeat that followed.

"Do you dream, Spock?" came the question, soft, but clear in the stillness of the room. A brief pause.

"I do. It is not common, but not unfamiliar."

Jim did not turn to face him. Indeed, he seemed to gaze more intently at the viewscreen.

"What do you dream about?"

Spock was silent for a moment. He told the truth, because it had been earned.

"I dream of my youth. Of my upbringing on Vulcan, my memories of my schooling and of my family. I dream also of...other things."

The sudden trailing off evidently surprised Jim, as he pivoted to rest his back against the railing and look Spock in the eyes--although they were hard for a human to see in the darkness. Spock, of course, could see Jim's face quite clearly. He was not sure if Jim had forgotten about the superior sight of Vulcans, or if he simply trusted Spock enough that he did not feel the need to hide the pain on his face. Spock knew--the doctor would laugh were he to hear Spock admit it--but he knew with an odd certainty that this was an old pain. As with most things involving his captain, there was no logical reason for Spock to be so certain.

Jim looked at Spock intently before asking, "Do you ever have nightmares?"

Spock held his gaze for a moment, and then, slowly, he nodded.

Jim's breathing was coming a little more heavily now. A sign of agitation, Spock noted. But from what cause? He was not sure.

Jim began to pace, no longer saying anything nor looking at Spock; a common behavior when the captain was stressed and did not know how to resolve his situation. He was a predictable man in many ways, and observation was Spock's area of expertise, so his behavioral patterns had quickly become clear. But that did not mean that Spock knew how to help him.

Clearly, Jim had come to the bridge intentionally. Equally clear were the facts that he had certainly known that Spock would be present on the bridge, and that he would be awake and alert. This indicated a desire for company. Obviously, the captain was distressed, and his condition seemed to be worsening. This would logically lead to the conclusion that he had hoped for Spock to help him. And additionally, that Spock was failing at doing so.

The silence was broken only by the heavy clicking of the captain's heels on the floor. Spock realized that the captain had not undressed for the night. Evidently he had fallen asleep without intending to. Jim continued to pace, hands clasped behind him, brow furrowed, looking at the floor.

"Jim."

Silence. The footfalls ceased.

"If I may ask, why did you come here?"

The silence resumed. Jim looked away.

"I can't sleep."

Spock paused. "Your breathing when you came onto the bridge indicated--"

"I dropped off for a few minutes. That's all I've gotten tonight."

As Jim stood there, now leaning heavily against the railing again, he looked infinitely tired. Seldom had Spock seen him like this--weary from burdens that no one could see him bear, back aching from standing upright when he most wanted to collapse. Jim Kirk was not a weak man, and it was rare that he would let his weakness show. But it was very late, and the bridge was very dark and very quiet, and Spock was there.

In the silence that followed Jim's words, Spock considered. He thought.

He recalled what he had been thinking of during his earlier hours of solitude on the bridge. Of Jim, and of himself, and of the bond between them.

Vulcans, as several of those on the Enterprise would know, could share dreams with someone with whom they shared a bond.

So Spock was not surprised that Jim asked him of nightmares. He had, after all, seen them in his captain's dreams. Upon seeing them, he was not surprised that Jim could not sleep. Nor was he surprised that Jim would seek comfort from one he thought, or perhaps knew, would understand.

But, although the two men were undeniably close, there was something unspoken between them--or perhaps, it was simply that Spock was reluctant to speak of it. In any case, it made offering comfort rather complicated.

Spock cared for Jim, certainly--far more than he could ever admit. He did not speak the word _t'hy'la_ , and he did not often express his admiration and affection for his captain. Nevertheless, those sentiments were present. It was only that Spock could not find a way to convey them. He was a Vulcan, and he could not bring himself to use words with such emotional meanings, meanings that were nebulous and hard to understand--words such as "love". That was a word that humans so often misconstrued. Spock did not share in the feelings it frequently implied.

And Jim knew this, and understood it, but Spock had never stated so. It had simply been understood, just as Spock understood Jim, though words were seldom spoken between them that acknowledged this. They simply were, and they had what they had, and neither of them wanted, or perhaps even knew how, to define it. But they each knew that when one was in need, the other would be there. At his side.

Spock stood and came alongside his captain, who was still propping himself up against the bar. And he looked at the viewscreen, hands folded behind his back, and he thought of Edith Keeler, and of things unspoken, and of dreams.

After a time, Jim turned around to face the screen as well; together, they looked, and perhaps they saw stars in the blackness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! It's another Aroace!Spock piece because I can't get enough of it. This time featuring a QPR (although not explicitly stated)! Tbh that's how I see them anyway lol 😂 Anon from tumblr who requested this, thanks for the inspiration! It may not have been exactly what you were looking for, but I hope it was an enjoyable read. And believe it or not, I actually have another one-shot that I'm looking to post sometime soon, so keep your eyes out! Thanks for reading :)


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